Sweet Silver Bells
by YourLoyalBlogger
Summary: Incapacitated before Christmas, John and Sherlock expect to return home to a miserable, cold, present-less and christmas-less flat. But upon arrival they are presently surprised. Full of H/C, banter and warm fuzzies. De-anon from the sherlockbbc fic meme
1. Chapter 1

I don't own BBC Sherlock

"This is all your fault"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and let his book fall onto his lap. "My fault? How is this _my_ fault?"

"Oh maybe because _you_ were the one who decided to chase the guy".

"Funny, my recollection was that you wanted me to chase him. Something like, "You won't get away with this!" Really John, that was so very cliche" He picked up his book again and resumed reading.

"He shot four people!"

"Yes I know, I deduced it remember? It still doesn't make this _my_ fault"

John sighed from the vicinity of his hospital bed. "Yes it does! You were the one stupid enough to run across a frozen pond!" "It was fine". The doctor scoffed. "Yeah until you slid across the last bit and tumbled down a bloody steep hill!". Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So?". "So of course I had to follow and end up falling down it myself!"

"You didn't have to follow John" He didn't even look up from his book. Sherlock, are you bloody stupid? thought John. "Of course I had to follow! You were unconscious!" "You could have waited for an ambulance." "We were in the bloody country!". "Is there a point to all this yelling?" John raised his hands in mock defeat. "Excuse me for caring about you then"

Sherlock turned and stared at his friend. "This isn't about caring, it wasn't safe to go down so you should have waited.". "And watch you bleed or freeze to death? Not bloody likely." John fumbled with the bandages covering his arm. "Had I been concious I would not have wanted you to follow me down John." The ex-solider looked up in surprise. "Why not?". Sherlock stared at his bed sheets. "I wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt as well. I would have been able to deduce that the path down was too steep and slippery."

John coughed and tried not to blush at the detectives obvious concern. "Yes well I think we're both lucky I remained concious enough to phone for help." "Indeed we are." Sherlock nodded and resumed his reading from where he left off.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John"

"When are we getting out of here? Its only two days till Christmas"

"Tomorrow John"

"Tomorrow? But I can't drive and you can barely walk! In fact you can't walk!"

"I pulled some strings, called into some favours, I knew you'd want to be home for Christmas and I hardly like the idea of staying in this...place.. for more than is necessary. Besides I can use crutches."

"Oh...thanks"

"Don't mention it"

"And how can you use crutches with your hand all messed up?"

"Im not using a wheelchair John"

"You'll have no choice"

"Lets save this argument for tomorrow John"

"Finally we agree on something"


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own BBC Sherlock or John

AN: (~~ indicates a flashback)

John watched as his flatmate slowly fell asleep, the book still in his hands. He shook his head smiling as he lay down himself. He was glad to be going home so soon. The past weeks had been less than enjoyable. The constant waiting for Sherlock to wake up had been one of the worst times of his life. Not knowing if his friend would live or die. Not knowing if he'd ever hear his voice again. John could still remember the horror he felt watching Sherlock slide across the pond after the suspect and then fall down the steep hill beyond it.

~~ John chased after the detective, trying to go around the pond, instead of across it. Only to look over the steep hill to see the broken body of his best friend. "SHERLOCK!" He'd of course received no response. Forgetting about the suspect and without thinking just how dangerous it might be to travel down, he quickly began his descent, slipping on the snow covered rocks twice. From here he could get a much closer view. And it made him wish he hadn't.

Sherlock's right leg was jutting out at an awkward ankle, the bone clearly visible. One hand rested against a now red rock and crimson blood had begun to pool slowly onto the snow beneath his head. "Sherlock!" John couldn't tell if he was even breathing. He took a step towards his friend only to lose his footing and tumble down the rest of the way.

The pain was excruciating. The doctor in him remained calm and assessed the damage. Broken left arm, broken fingers on right hand, head wound on left temple, pain in leg, but unable to determine if broken or sprained.. plus numerous cuts and bruises. John counted himself fortunate to not be too badly hurt. He turned his head, wincing, he was almost right next to Sherlock. "Sherlock...Sherlock speak to me, please say something" He whispered, trying to bring one broken hand towards the limp one above his head. John managed to close his palm around the cold, bloody wrist and held his breath, praying for a pulse. Don't be dead, don't you dare be dead Sherlock, I'll never forgive you if you are. A tear trickled down his cheek as he waited what seemed like years until he felt the slow but clearly present beat of a working heart.

Now that he was closer he could see his friends chest rise and fall. He was relived but knew that neither of them were out of danger just yet. Both were in a great deal of trouble, particularly Sherlock as John could see he had a serious head injury. He wiped away a tear, rather painfully as he knew it was quite possible his friend would never wake up again. I need to stay calm, I need to stay calm, he repeated over and over in his head. The phone, you have your phone, why aren't you calling for help! Funny how that thought sounded so much like Sherlock. He used his less injured limb to pull out the, thankfully not damaged, phone and started to dial for help. ~~

The memories were still raw and painful in his mind. Only matched by the joy and elation when after a week his best friend had wearily opened those pale orbs and croaked out his name. Or when their playful banter had begun again. John couldn't believe how much he even missed the sound of Sherlock complaining over the hospital staff or deducing which nurse was having an affair with which doctor. Now that they were both on the mend, his thoughts began to turn towards the holidays.

There would be no visiting Harry this Christmas, no visiting anywhere really, he'd be amazed if they even did anything this Christmas. Oh God the flat! They hadn't even decorated it yet. Sherlock had been against the idea, seeing it as a frivolous waste of time. John had of course ignored his opinion and brought the decorations anyway, but then they'd been called on to take a case outside of London and the decorations now lay forgotten in boxes in 221b. There would be no food in the fridge either when they got home, their rooms would no doubt be freezing too with no one able to light the fire.

It looked to John like it was going to be a miserable Christmas this year. He sighed, closed his eyes and slipped off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own BBC Sherlock or John

Sherlock had adamantly refused to use a wheelchair but had to be wheeled out in one whether he liked it or not, to the car waiting outside. Provided by Mycroft of course, who as usual was no where to be seen. "This is embarrassing" He remarked to the limping John beside him.

"Be more careful next time then"

"I was careful this time John"

"Sure Sherlock, thats why you didn't fall down a cliff"

"Hill John, not a cliff"

John shook his head chuckling, his smile infectious enough for Sherlock to laugh too. He helped his flatmate slide into the backseat, placing a pair of crutches on the floor of the car. "Got no idea how you're gonna use them with your injured hand Sherlock." "I'll manage". The car ride back was long and mostly silent due to fact that Sherlock was taking a nap. His poor flatmates body was still exhausted from his ordeal. John smiled slightly as Sherlock's head fell to rest against the doctor's shoulder. At least he didn't snore.

John poked his friend none to gently. More than once. "Sherlock wake up, we're home". The detective blinked and wiped the sleep from his eyes, looking about twelve. "Baker Street?" he yawned. "Finally". The driver had to help both of them out, especially Sherlock and John found he needed to keep a close eye on Sherlock has he unsteadily began his way to the front door. John waved and thanked the driver. He had to, Sherlock had probably already deleted him from his mind.

"Oh."

"What's wrong Sherlock?"

"I forgot Mrs Hudson is seeing family this year"

"Oh."

That meant they were completely on their own. That was just great. John opened the door, helping his friend inside. "Im sure will manage...somehow". Sherlock looked up at their next daunting task. "This is going to be tricky" remarked John as he took the crutches from Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his friend's thin waist. It took almost twenty minutes for them to make their way up the seventeen steps. Having to stop at least twice didn't help and John was certain a change of bandages would be needed soon.

"We don't have any groceries..."

"Call Angelo's, he owes me enough favours, maybe he'll deliver something for us"

John nodded remembering the time he'd brought back his cane. God the cane, he was in need of that right now. Stupid, horrible thing. This limp was definitely not psychosomatic. John sighed as they reached their door. "Whats wrong?". "This is without a doubt, going to be the worst Christmas in a long time Sherlock."

The detective rested against the wall. "How so?". "Oh come on. No food, no heat, I haven't picked up the presents, no visiting anyone, no decorations. Nothing!". Sherlock stared for a moment. "You have me.." he said hesitantly. John's face relaxed into a smile. "I do, god help me" imitating DI Lestrade. Sherlock smiled at that and waited for John to open the door. And then wondering why his flatmate kept standing there with an open mouth.

"John?"

"John?"

John I'm stuck over here, whats going on John? Why are you still standing there looking like you've seen Mycroft in a dress? Whats going on John? John?


	4. Chapter 4

(brackets indicate a dream sequence)

John shook his head. "What?" Sherlock looked concerned. "Wait.. Mycroft in a dress?" Sherlock tried not to giggle at the expression on John's face, who was now , most likely, imagining such a scenario. "I had to get your attention somehow. Whats the matter?". John handed the crutches to his friend. "See for yourself" The doctor was beaming. Sherlock used the crutches, rather unsteadily still to enter the room after the doctor, who still couldn't stop smiling.

It was night outside so Sherlock had expected a dark, cold room but it was lit by the hundreds of lights adorning a magnificent, plastic, Christmas Tree. It gave the room a warm golden glow. There was a roaring fire and decorations strewn across the room. There was even a santa hat on the skull. He moved to the couch and sat down, still quite in shock.

" Hey they cleaned up the kitchen!" Exclaimed John, quite happy. The table was cleared off, with a Christmas themed table runner across it. He limped to fridge and opened it. "And we have food!" And there was no body parts in the fridge either! He opened every cupboard door to find more food. Even his jam shelf was full.

"John!"

The doctor limped into the other room. "What is it Sherlock?". The defective didn't answer, simply pointed to the mantle piece where a folded card sat waiting. John picked it up and opened it.

John and Sherlock,

We know things haven't been easy the past few weeks so we decided to do something to cheer you both up.

We hope you enjoy everything so far. More to come.

From

The Christmas Elves.

"Theres no such thing as elves" muttered Sherlock.

" Of course not Sherlock, its obvious they just don't want us finding out who they are"

"Obviously"

" More to come?...I wonder what that will mean"

Sherlock shrugged and grabbed his stomach as it painfully rumbled. John laughed. "I know you barely eat much as it is Sherlock, but I think we really should have something before we head to bed." Sherlock had to agree. He was absolutely starving.

Their dinner was small, mostly scrambled eggs and toast and then they started getting ready for bed. Which in Sherlock's case proved a little difficult. "You sure you don't need any help?" called John from the bathroom. "Im sure". And then there was a thump of a body hitting the floor.

John sighed and looked into his flatmates bedroom. The man in question was sitting on the floor. "Decide to sleep on the floor did we?" John helped him up and onto the bed. The whole flat was so warm that Sherlock had decided to sleep on top of the covers tonight.

"I fell"

"Being doing that a lot lately haven't you?"

"You're tired John, go to sleep"

John rolled his eyes but left for his room anyway, while Sherlock curled up on the bed and fell asleep.

( It was the same as his memory, except here he was able to make it down without falling himself. Sherlock lay there, his broken body bleeding across the white snow. His eyes were closed, his face beginning to frost over.

"SHERLOCK!"

He ran to his friend, pulling him up and cradling him, reaching a hand towards his neck, searching for a pulse. There wasn't one. "SHERLOCK!" He laid him down and tried to perform CPR, but he knew it was too late. "No..."

He was cradling him again, crying and shaking. This couldn't be happening, not to them, not to Sherlock. "Why Sherlock?" How long did you wait for me to come and save you? Did you die concious Sherlock? Afraid and alone? "Im sorry, Sherlock" He began to rock back and forth, his best friends dead body against his chest.

"Please come back Sherlock, please... please" I can't live without you. You brought me back to life, you brought colour back into my world, please just come back to me. "I can't do this without you mate, come on. You cant do this to me!"

"You aren't allowed to die Sherlock! What about Moriarty huh? We have to stop him, together. Please, just... just wake up"

But his pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Just come back to me...")

John bolted upright.

"Sher-!"


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock jumped, suddenly awake. He could hear his friend crying out his name, from the other room, still fast asleep. John...oh John, he must be dreaming about what happened. He couldn't begin to imagine how the doctor had felt during that time.

"Sher-!"

"John? John!"

This woke the doctor up. Sherlock was calling for him. He pulled on his dressing gown and grabbed his cane, limping as fast as he was able to his friends room. Worry filling every corner of him. Was he in pain? Sick? Sherlock was still curled up on the bed, his head raised slightly. The small bandage visible beneath the curls.

"You were crying John..."

Oh. John took a breath. "Yes...nightmare, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you". Sherlock still looked slightly worried. "About... what happened?". John moved to sit on the edge of the bed, resting his leg, his back to Sherlock. "Sort of, more like what might have happened..." He rubbed his eyes. Sherlock's own widened as he realised exactly what his friend had been dreaming about. His friend had dreamed his death. Sherlock knew the feeling. Too many times had the same thing happened to him after the incident at the pool.

"Im alright John"

"Yes Sherlock I know but...you have no idea what it was like, finding you there and then waiting for you to wake up". John breathed in and out again. "It was just...Sherlock, I thought you'd never wake up again." Sherlock looked uncomfortable, he knew his friend needed to get this off his chest but he could also tell how much it had hurt his flatmate.

"And then you did" John gave a nervous laugh. "And you said my name and I was just...very happy."

"John...I" Im so sorry John.

"Im sorry you probably want to go back to sleep." John felt that way himself, his eyes occasionally sliding shut. "Im sorry John.. I didn't realise.. how much this had affected you.." Because I didn't want to see. I was afraid how I would feel. "'s alright Sherlock just promise me.. you won't do something that stupid again." Sherlock's mouth twisted into a smile.

"I don't plan falling off something tall anytime soon John"

"You better not."

John yawned, as did Sherlock, who had laid his head back down and begun to close his eyes. "I'll just... sit here for a bit...tired. Then I'll go... I'll go.." His eyes slid shut and his head fell against his chest.

At some point in the night John had fallen back onto the bed, his head resting against Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock's head resting against his own. Brown hair mixing with black. They stayed that way until morning.

Footsteps tiptoed quietly through the house, spreading more christmas cheer.


	6. Chapter 6

"Urgh my head..." Sherlock winced as he blinked out the sleep from his eyes. What time was it? He turned to look at the clock only to notice the other form on the bed. John!...What was he doing there? Sherlock flushed slightly, John looked so peaceful and relaxed. He must have fallen asleep after talking to me last night, mused the detective as he reached for the crutches. Sherlock pulled himself up, trying not to make much noise, and exited his room.

The flat was still warm. Sherlock could be wrong but were there more presents under the tree then before? No, that was impossible, it was darker earlier, he must have just missed them. He moved around the kitchen, making him self a warm hot-chocolate. There was a box by the kettle with a small bow on its lid. Intrigued he opened it. It was for John, had to be, for it was very expensive tea. But this had not been here the night before. Had they had unexpected visitors while the two of them were sleeping?

Hot chocolate ready he moved to the couch. There was another folded card on the coffee table. So he'd been right. He opened this one, quickly reading the message.

_Hello again,_

_You two were sleeping so we took the chance to continue our Christmas mission. Hope you don't mind. And it's still not over yet._

_The Christmas Elves_

_P.S. You two looked very sweet together last night :)_

Sherlock flushed lightly and placed the card back down. Most intriguing. Perhaps he could solve this interesting case. The Case of the Christmas Mission. No... better leave the case titles to John, he was much better at it.

Meanwhile John had woken up as well. He was confused for a moment. This was not his bedroom. Wait wasn't this Sherlock's? What was he doing in Sherlock's bedroom? Oh. He must have fallen asleep. Stupid. Sherlock wasn't there either, so he was up then. John reached for his cane and limped off in search of his friend.

"John"

"Sherlock"

"Have a nice sleep?"

"Sort of. Sorry for um.. passing out on your bed last night"

Sherlock, who was now laying across the couch, stared at the ceiling. "Well you were stressed, it was understandable." John noticed the letter resting on the table. "Another message?". Sherlock nodded, gesturing for him to read it.

"They left you something in the kitchen"

"Really? What?"

"None of my business" Right of course, because you always keep your nose out of people's business don't you Sherlock? John went off to see. "This.. this is really expensive stuff!" He grinned, putting the kettle on to boil, eager to try it out. He then wandered around the kitchen preparing breakfast for the two of them.

"Come on Sherlock! Time for breakfast"

"Not interested"

"Look I put a lot of work into this, the least you could do is to come in and eat it"

"Not. Interested"

"Sherlock, its Christmas, just this once will you get off your arse and eat something?"

Sherlock sighed and pulled himself up, letting out a groan. "Fine, only because its Christmas and you seem to be obsessed about the subject." John rolled his eyes and placed the meals on the table. They ate in silence, except for the occasional sigh from John as he sipped his tea.

"Are you drinking that or making love to it John?"

John nearly spat out his tea. "Sherlock! Its just...really really good. Best cup of tea I've had in a long time."

"You're obsessed with tea too. And jam."

"Look its better than your habit of leaving body parts about the place"

"Experiments"

"Oh really is that why there was a bloody toe in my jam last time?"

" Yes"

"Well I for one am glad these 'christmas elves' have cleared up the place"

Sherlock didn't answer and simply kept eating. John's thoughts turned to the presents under the tree and the stockings above the fireplace. How did he miss those? "Where they there last night?". "Was what where?". "The stockings". Sherlock whipped his head around. "No...I don't think so."

One was a dark green, the other a warm red, with the same white fur around the openings. The green one had Sherlock embroidered with silver across the top, the red John, embroidered in gold. "These are beautiful. Who do you think they came from?" Sherlock shrugged, grabbed his crutches and limped over.

"Whats inside?"


	7. Chapter 7

John took his off the mantle and opened it. Inside his were several chocolate bars, tickets to a play he'd been long wanting to see and a beautiful black leather watch. "Wow..." That was all he could really say.

"What about your's Sherlock?"

Sherlock took his stocking off the mantle as well and moved to his armchair. Inside was a new lens for his microscope, he'd broken the old one awhile ago, also a handful of chocolates, he might as well give those to John and a beautiful new moleskin notebook.

"Not bad mate" remarked John, sitting opposite him, picking up the tv remote. He moved his chair slightly so he was able to see it and Sherlock. There was a choir singing in one of the cathedrals, John couldn't tell which. But it was beautiful and just made everything feel more... christmassy.

_Hark how the bells_

_Sweet silver bells_

_All seem to say_

_Throw cares away_

_Christmas is here_

_Bringing good cheer_

_To young and old_

_Meek and the bold_

_Ding dong ding_

_That is their song_

_With joyful ring_

_All carolling_

_One seems to hear_

_Words of good cheer_

_From everywhere_

_Filling the air._

_Oh how they pound,_

_Raising the sound,_

_O'er hill and dale,_

_Telling their tale._

_Gaily they ring while people sing_

_Songs of good cheer, Christmas is here._

_Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas, _

_Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas._

John smiled, humming the tune to himself. Sherlock kept glancing at the tree and wondering who the presents beneath it belonged too. He'd planned on getting one for John, knowing how much those sorts of things meant to him. He'd even ordered something in for him. But then the case, their accident, who knows what had happened to it now.

Sherlock picked up a book from off the floor and began reading, letting John hum along to the songs. "Sherlock?" "Hmm?". "Who do you suppose did all this?". "I have no idea." John chuckled. "You? Really?". Sherlock put down the book. "I have my suspicions but it'd be useless to theorise until I have all the facts." "Why?". Sherlock sighed.

"Because inevitably you begin to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. So, until I get more data, I will not make assumptions" John shook his head and grinned. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he stood making his way to the tree. Sherlock didn't even look up.


	8. Chapter 8

"Now what are you doing?"

"Just wondering"

"About?"

"Well, I brought some of these but didn't pick them up. And yet here they are" He picked up a pair of boxes tied together with ribbon. "Clearly our 'elves'" Sherlock made a face at the word.

"Clearly they went and picked it up for you."

"I figured that myself Sherlock".

"Oh, deduced it did you?"

Another rolling of his eyes. "Yes Sherlock I deduced it." He sat back down, the packages in his lap. Sherlock glanced at them for a moment. "Aren't you going to open it?" John shook his head. "Its not for me". "Oh". "Its for you". Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"From?"

"From me you git"

"Oh. You didn't have to .. um get me anything John. I didn't even want to decorate the flat"

"Well like it or not you're getting a present and judging by the gifts under the tree, more than one"

Sherlock coughed and moved in his chair. John thrust the packages at him and sat back down. "Open it!". Sherlock focussed his entire attention to the presents on his lap. He pulled the bow off the smaller one and ripped off the paper. A box. He lifted the lid, his look one of surprise when he saw what was inside. It was a new scarf. Blue like the old one, but with faint stripes. His other one had begun to be a bit tatty, partially due to the damage it often received while out on cases.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well do you like it or not?" Honestly Sherlock, sometimes you are so thick.

"Oh. Yes...thanks."

"You don't like it do you?"

"No. No! I mean I do like it, very much" Im just not good at expressing thanks John, you know that.

"Good, because your other one is in desperate need of being retired, especially after...last time" Referring to his trip down the hill.

"True" He took out the scarf and wrapped it around his neck. It already felt like it belonged there. And Sherlock could see the look on John's face when he'd put it on. He was pleased he'd chosen something his flatmate had liked. Now for the other gift. John rested his hand against his chin, one finger on his lips. This was the gift he wasn't even sure Sherlock would like.

The detective ripped off the paper on the second, throwing it carelessly aside. Really, John mused, he is such a child sometimes. What am I saying? He's always such a child. Sherlock removed the lid on this one, this time his face took on a look of wonder.

What lay inside was without a doubt a beautiful object. It was a Victorian magnifying glass. The handle, dark wood, wonderfully crafted, a smooth silver metal wrapped around the clear glass. It must have been expensive, but then it could also simply be from a thrift or second hand good store. You could find all sorts of treasures there.

"John this is..." He seemed lost for words. "John I can't accept this, it must have cost a fortune". John flushed with pleasure. "Not as much as you'd think, I found it at this great little store on the outskirts of London. As soon as I saw it I thought of you" Sherlock could see why, though it looked far too precious for him to actually use.

"...thank you John" was all he could really manage to say, still holding the object as if it was made of gold.

"Im glad you like it. You're not an easy person to buy for Sherlock!"

"All part of my charm John"


	9. Chapter 9

"What charm?" John grinned mischievously as he watched a smile slowly form on Sherlock's face. He found it amusing that all he had to do was smile and Sherlock would follow suit. Like it was contagious. Sherlock now wondered if his gift for John had been delivered here as well.

"John"

"Yes Sherlock" He was back to watching the TV.

"John, over here"

"Hmm? What is it Sherlock? Im watching the telly right now"

"Funny I thought you were all for celebrating Christmas"

"You..what?" He turned around.

"Can you get me a drink?"

"Why can't you...oh. Ok but just this once" The doctor stood and limped into the kitchen. Once his back was turned, Sherlock pulled himself up and retrieved a business card sized box from the book case and sat back down, hiding it.

'Thanks"

"Don't mention it"

'I won't"

John chuckled, then turned back to the telly.

"John, see if they delivered your gift from me"

John blinked. "You brought me a gift".

"Yes"

"You?"

"Is that so hard to believe?".

"Yes actually." Sherlock gave him a rather dubious look.

"Ok ok so it's not that hard to believe, but when on earth did you find the time?". Sherlock ran a hand through his curls. "Well you kept on and on about Christmas, I thought I might as well get you something. As for when, just before we left I think, I put in an order but I have no idea if it ever arrived."

"You know...if its not there you don't need to worry about...gifts and stuff" John rubbed a hand against his neck.

"Why's that?"

"Cause um...well you're alive and awake..." A sheepish grin. "Thats a gift enough to me..."

"John..."

"...yeah. But I should see if one's there all the same though right?"

He had to admit though, John was touched. He stood and leaned over the pile of gifts under the tree. He managed to find a medium sized box wrapped in green paper that was addressed to him from Sherlock. "I think this is it" Sherlock shrugged, it was hard to tell. John sat down with his box, eager to find out what sort of thing Sherlock could have brought him.

Sherlock clasped his hands in front of his face, his eyes on John. If John didn't like it he could always blame Lestrade. After all it had partly been his idea. John pulled off the paper carefully and opened the box. It was a small, thin leather bound book. Titled, The Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes by Dr. John Watson. He skimmed through the book. These were the stories he told in his blog! All or most of the adventures they'd had so far.

"Sherlock... this is great how did you.. well come up with this? And the title?"

"Lestrade"

John grinned and Sherlock had actually taken his advice. "Thanks, this is really great." Sherlock smiled, but was still concerned that John would not like his other gift. He pulled the box out from behind him and handed it to John.

"Whats this?"

"Another gift...um, this was my idea."

John raised his eyebrows and opened the box. Inside were more than a dozen of business card like cards. Each had been printed with a blue border and black writing. "What are these Sherlock?". "Read them"

"Sherlock Holmes will buy the groceries for two weeks. Sherlock are these like... vouchers?" He nodded. "Good for one use each however." "Of course." John grinned.

"Sherlock Holmes will promise to not play the violin at three in the morning for one month."

"Sherlock Holmes will eat when he's supposed to for one month. Sherlock Holmes will promise to take the advice of John Watson over his health for one month. Sherlock these are great!"

The detective's face relaxed into a relieved smile. "Sherlock Holmes will not leave any body parts around the house for three weeks. Sherlock Holmes promises to not use any of the tea or jam of John Watson for experiments, for two weeks.." It went on and on like that. These were just brilliant.

"Thanks Sherlock"

"Don't mention it"

"I won't" Another grin from Sherlock.

John read through the rest coming to the last one. This one was different however, it was gold bordered and no expiry date.

"Sherlock Holmes promises to teach John Watson the Art of Deduction...really Sherlock?" The way John's face lit up made everything all worth it.

"Really"


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock suddenly sat up straight, putting a finger on his lips to make John silent. He listened and then relaxed.

"What was that all about?"

"Mrs Hudson"

"Im sorry?"

"She's on her way up"

John clasped his book tightly. "I thought you said she was with relatives". "Thats what she told me". The door opened to reveal... Mrs Hudson. She took one look at both men and tutted disapprovingly. "Really you two, you need to learn how to take better care of yourselves"

"Hello Mrs Hudson" They replied in unison and then stared at each other once they'd realised what they had just done.

"Mrs Hudson?" The woman in question was busying herself around the kitchen. "Yes dear?". "I thought you were visiting relatives" replied John. "Oh I was dear, but the thought of leaving you two, as you are, alone on Christmas Day, I had to come and say hello." John smiled, that was kind of her. Sherlock however frowned.

"How did you know?"

"Know what darling?"

"About our injuries"

Mrs Hudson smiled, her eyes secretive. "Never you mind that. Now Im going to go downstairs and make you boys something nice for lunch. Hows that?" She took another look at them, shook her head and walked downstairs. John got up, limped over and closed the door. Sherlock had his hand to his mouth, his eyes glazed over. Oh great his thinking face. Brilliant.

"Sherlock"

"John"

"Whats wrong now?"

Sherlock turned and smiled. "How did she know John? How did she know what had happened to us? Or that we'd be back home by today? Someones told her... but who... and why?" He continued to look pensive. "Does it matter?" "I have to know John" John ran his fingers against the back of his neck. "Your brains probably just suffering from deduction withdrawal" He received a chuckle from his flatmate with that comment.

'Yes well, firstly with being unconscious and then stuck in that godawful place for days on end. Its no wonder" John's face fell. Shit, did I say something wrong? "John?". "Sherlock... I was having fun why did you have to say that?" He rubbed his hand across his eyes. "What... what did I say?" The detective was suddenly concerned.

"You... unconscious, like I needed that memory to pop up again. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Sherlock looked down, ashamed for what he'd said. "Most people don't worry about me, besides Mycroft". John stood, heading to the kitchen but then turned around. "I worry! Sherlock you were unconscious for a week, they were'nt sure when or if you'd wake up! I spent every day wondering if I was ever going to hear my best friends voice again." His hand fell against his mouth. "And then by the last day, I was having to consider life after you Sherlock. Having to consider you laying there for the rest of your life! You... you have no idea do you?"

Sherlock rested his elbows on the arms of the armchair, his head in his hands.


	11. Chapter 11

John didn't seem to notice, he just carried on with his rant. "You clearly have no idea." He couldn't help himself now, he'd held back the night before but no longer, he just had to get this out. If only so Sherlock would realise people cared about him and took more care for himself.

"I spent every bloody day by your bedside, even though the nurses kept dragging me back to my own room, cause I was still bloody injured myself." He rested his hands on the back of the arm chair. "I'd read to you, from your books or the newspaper or just... I'd just talk to you." John rubbed his eyes.

"I'd hope that some of it was getting through to you, that you'd come back to m-, that you'd come back." Sherlock was still hunched over. "I did come back". "Yes Sherlock, I know, you did, but... Sherlock the thought of you never coming back, never waking up. The thought of that brilliant mind, and yes it is brilliant, being forever locked up in that thick skull of yours... it broke me Sherlock."

It was useless trying to hide his tears now, he let them fall freely down his cheeks. "And the mere fact that you think you can just joke about it and ignore what happened... I can't accept that, I won't accept that."

John turned, his back now to his flatmate. "If you don't start taking better care of yourself, if you don't quit being so reckless all the time...Im not sure I can follow you on all your "adventures" again. Im not sure my heart will be able to take it the next time..." He limped off into the kitchen.

Oh John.. oh John... Im so sorry. Sherlock's shoulders quivered, shook. He was crying, genuinely crying. Such a flippant comment had hurt his friend because he failed to realise just how much pain he was carrying. Sherlock was not used to friends, so he needed to take better care of the only one he had. John had seen so many comrades lost in battle, it only made sense for him to feel as he did right now, over the one friend he hadn't yet lost.

It was sad in a way, but they only had each other. Both had siblings they didn't get along with, John's he rarely even saw. Sherlock's was always watching from the shadows. But neither were truly as close to them as they were to each other. They were bonded, not in blood but by heart and soul. And Sherlock knew, this was the reason that John was so upset. Poor John had had to envision a life without the only person he had left. Sherlock didn't begrudge him his rant, he just hoped he could make things right again.

He picked up his crutches, painfully walking towards the kitchen. John was standing in front of the fridge, most likely deep in thought, but his shoulders were shaking, the detective could clearly hear him crying, and it broke his heart.

Oh John, how can I make this right?


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock knew there was something he could do in this situation. But he wasn't sure if he really should do it. He wasn't really of the touchy-feely sort. Except perhaps with Mrs Hudson. This was John though, out of anyone, this was the person who saw his human side. Who saw his emotions, who knew he wasn't a sociopath or any other disorder.

John was the person who saw the lonely boy inside, the one who was alienated as child and as a result, placed a wall around his heart. Out of anyone, John was the one Sherlock should and would do anything to bring back a smile to his face.

He limped over to his friend, remaining quietly behind him, still unsure of himself. Which wasn't like him at all. John had one hand on his cane, head bent, still with his back to his flatmate. The other hand was against the fridge, stabilising himself. Oh John, I've hurt you badly. Sherlock felt another tear trickle down his cheek. So he stopped thinking about it and just did what his heart told him.

He wrapped his arms around his best friends shoulders and rested his forehead against the brown hair of his doctor. He said nothing. John's head moved, Sherlock could almost feel the surprise radiate through him.

John said nothing either. Again, he was touched. His tears slowed but still fell. He rested his free hand against the one hanging from his shoulders, leaning his head back and just enjoying and allowing the comfort his normally reserved best friend was giving him. Some how this act of kindness from Sherlock made him cry more, he turned in Sherlock's arms and wept against his chest, clenching the fabric. Surprised, Sherlock simply held him, allowing his friend to vent his grief and pain instead of bottling it like the detective did.

John needed this and Sherlock would never allow anyone else to do so nor would he allow himself to be this vulnerable around anyone else but John. Neither knew how long they stayed like that, both unconsciously knowing how much they both needed it.

Sherlock had rest his chin on John's head, rubbing his back, holding him while he sobbed. It grieved Sherlock to see the normally strong, brave doctor be so fragile and grieved him more to be the cause of it. He hoped he would never have to put John in such a position again.

From the front door, a woman in deep purple watched for a moment, a smile on her face and a tear in her eye and crept back out. Lunch could wait. Her boys needed this moment alone.


	13. Chapter 13

John had no idea how long they'd been standing there like that. Embarrassed, he pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "Sorry, um I don't know what came over me" He forced a laugh, searching his pockets for a handkerchief, only to be handed a tissue by Sherlock, who still hadn't said anything. John looked up into his friends face in shock.

Sherlock's eyes were red, his cheeks stained with tears. "Sherlock...". The man in question took a step towards John, whose eyes were threatening to tear up again at the sight of his flatmate's face. A crutch slipped from beneath him, getting caught in a chair and down tumbled the detective, a mess of dressing gown, crutches and part of the chair.

If Sherlock hadn't been so badly injured recently, it might have even been humorous. "Sherlock!" John rushed over, ignoring the pain in his leg. The bemused and somewhat embarrassed expression on Sherlock's face brought a smile to his own and then a chuckled, with Sherlock quickly following suit.

"Are you alright mate?" The victim winced and grabbed his forehead. John sighed, only Sherlock would injure himself while already injured.

"You, couch, now" Ordered John, who helped up his friend and directed him to the couch. "Sit". Sherlock sat, holding his head in his hands once more. John grabbed a desk chair and placed it in front of the detective.

"Now let me look"

"It's fine"

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock sighed this time and removed his hand. A red stain was quickly spreading across the bandage. "Its not even lunch time Sherlock.." Trouble always found him, even on Christmas Day. John got up and went to fetch a fresh bandage.

He gently unwound the old, his heart arching upon seeing the wound again. John swabbed up the fresh blood as gently as he was able, trying to ingore the sounds of pain coming from his friend.

"You need to be more careful Sherlock" Satisfied with his work he wrapped up Sherlock's head once more with a clean fresh bandage.

"I was careful, it was the chair's fault"

"Don't blame the chair"

"I'll blame whatever inatimate object I like"

"Like the wall?"

"The wall is not an object John"

John chuckled. Sherlock grinned, glad to see a warm smile on his friends face once more. "Thanks...by the way...um you didn't have to go that far to comfort me, especially after what I said." Sherlock leaned back against the couch. "John, I wanted to. And you had every right to say what you said. I &. don't want you to not come with me anymore..I will try to take better care of myself..." John rubbed his eye.

"You better".

"Well I haven't needed to before...I had you to do that"

Both sat there an uncomfortable silence between them, there had been enough emotional sharing this morning already. They coughed in unison.

"I hope you're ready for some lunch boys!" Came a voice from the stairs. The two men quickly wiped their eyes and tried to look as if nothing had happened. Mrs Hudson came through the door, with an armful of food. "That smells delicious Mrs Hudson!" exclaimed John who quickly went to help her set the table.


	14. Chapter 14

The smell was beautiful. It was a roast and boy was John hungry. "You didn't have to do this Mrs Hudson". "Nonsense, of course I did, couldn't let you two eat alone on Christmas, its not decent". John smiled and pecked her cheek. Blushing Mrs Hudson busied her self with the rest of the setting up.

"Dig in!"

The two of them had to help a grumbling detective to the table. Mrs Hudson sat at the head of the table with John and Sherlock on either side. "Thank you" Sherlock whispered quietly to his landlady. She waved a dismissive hand, proudly smiling.

They piled their plates high with food, but before eating John decided they should pull the Christmas crackers. John and Mrs Hudson went first, an explosion in red and green. A small pink paper hat fell out as well as an odd shaped blue giraffe. She smiled, placing the hat on her head. John laughed and motioned for Sherlock to pull his cracker.

"This is silly"

"This is fun!"

Sherlock shook his head, still smiling, he couldn't seem to stop now. John's cracker had a green paper hat and red monkey. The doctor proudly wore the paper creation. "Come on, last one Sherlock". Another explosion and this time a red hat and a green lion.

"I am not wearing this"

"Sherlock it's Christmas"

"You can't use that excuse for everything John"

"Yes I can, put the damn hat on Sherlock"

* * *

><p>He did and felt completely stupid, but John and Mrs Hudson seemed amused and happy so he didn't mind all that much. The meal was delicious and so was the wine. Yes Mrs Hudson had brought wine, nothing expensive but it was a nice touch all the same.<p>

Sherlock and John shouldn't even be drinking any but as John said, it was Christmas. And to be completely honest, the wine idea had left Mrs Hudson with now two slightly tipsy and very giggly tenants.

* * *

><p>"Your hat looks so siiily Sheerlock" Slurred John, giggling like a child. Sherlock pouted and poked his hat.<p>

"Don't be mean John, I like my hat" He sounded so honest and sad that John laughed even harder.

"Why are you laughing John? I like my hat...Mrs Hudson what's wrong with John?" He tilted his head slightly, the hat slipping down across his eyes. She resisted laughing at the poor man. But he did look adorable. "He's a bit tipsy dear, but don't worry I quite like your hat"

"See John, Mrs Hudson likes my hat"

"John"

"John, the floor isn't a good place to sleep John"

"Im not sleepin' Serlock"

"Then why are you on the floor?"

"Cause I fell off me chair" He laughed again.

"You're very strange John" Sherlock grabbed his crutches moving around to help John off the floor only for the doctor, while trying to pull himself up, accidentally pulled Sherlock down, so for the second time in only a few hours Sherlock fell down again this time next to John.

The two of them looked at each other and broke into a bout of hysterical laughter.


	15. Chapter 15

Mrs Hudson smiled and resisted the urge to laugh at the two giggling men on currently on the floor. The two were lying side by side, laughing at who knows what. She was not ashamed to admit to having taken a few photos either. It was simply to adorable not too. But they really should get off the floor in their current state.

"Come on dear" She helped up the nearest one, John and put her arm around him, steadying him as she helped him to his armchair. "What you do that for, Misses...Mrs Hudson?". Mrs Hudson gave him another smile. "I have something for you and Sherlock, I have to go soon so I would like to give it to you before I leave"

She wandered back into the kitchen to find the detective asleep on the floor. Sleeping could wait and she hadn't forgotten to grief he put her through on finding out just what had happened and what had nearly happened to Sherlock and John.

"Wakey wakey Sherlock, you need to get up"

'I'm tired, go 'way Mycroft, go start a war or something"

"I am not your brother dear, come on now" She poked him lightly and pulled him up. Sherlock groaned and winced, trying to use the table to pull himself upright. "This way Sherlock" The landlady helped him to his own armchair.

"Did you fall 'sleep Sherlock?"

"No"

"Did too"

"Did not"

"Too"

"Not"

"Thats enough children" Mrs Hudson laughed from the vicinity of the christmas tree. "But he's teasing me". "You tease him, it's only fair dear." She handed Sherlock a nicely wrapped gift in green and red holly. To John she gave a similarly wrapped gift in blue and white snowflakes.

* * *

><p>John opened his in earnest, it was a handmade jumper, chocolate brown with zig zag patterns around the top. "Thanks Mrs Hudson!" He pulled himself up and gave her a warm hug.<p>

"It was nothing dear. Do you like it?"

"I love it"

Sherlock's gift was a couple of books on various obscure subjects. He seemed very interested. "Are they alright dear?" Inquired Mrs Hudson, learning over so the more injured tenant was able to hug her. "Yes, thank you very much". She seemed very happy that both men enjoyed their presents as much as she had making and looking for them.

"Now I must be off boys... try not to get into any trouble, especially seeing as you're both still...a little tipsy" She gave them both a peck on the cheek, a merry christmas and left the flat.

"So now what d' we do, Sherlock?" Slurred John, hugging his jumper. Sherlock was looking at his books.

"Bees"

"What?"

"What?"

"Y'said bees"

"Yes, this books got bees in it" He'd opened the book in the middle, landing in the bee section. "I like honey". "Its about bees not honey John". John nodded, the room slightly swaying. "Yeah but I still like honey." Sherlock rubbed his temple. "I thought you liked jam, John...jam John...I like saying that." John laughed, it did have a funny ring to it.

"Guess we wait till dinner" Said Sherlock, who was drifting back off to sleep. "Keep watch John"

"What for?"

"The elves"

"Why...will they steal our pr'sents?"

"...yes"


End file.
